


Before it is too late

by real_fanta_sea



Series: Against all odds [1]
Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Alternate Universe, Based on a Tumblr Post, Ludendorff, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:09:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24811345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/real_fanta_sea/pseuds/real_fanta_sea
Summary: This short fic is based on a post byhorny-for-evilCheck out the link to the post in notes.It all happens after Michael was supposedly shot in Ludendorff.Before you start reading, you should know this fic contains implied drug abuse, implied sex, implied violence and gore, hence the mature rating. It is nothing graphic, but it's there and I thought you deserve to know in advance.
Relationships: Amanda De Santa/Michael De Santa, Michael De Santa/Trevor Philips
Series: Against all odds [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1978756
Comments: 8
Kudos: 36





	Before it is too late

**Author's Note:**

> This short fic is based on a post by [horny-for-evil](https://horny-for-evil.tumblr.com/)
> 
> [Au where Michael changes his mind last minute and runs away with Trevor after the yankton job. Or better yet where he never took the deal and runs away with Trevor. What I’m saying his they deserve to be happy together. Michael never changes his name. Trevor never gets the rip Michael tattoo things are good](https://horny-for-evil.tumblr.com/post/620981863751860224/au-where-michael-changes-his-mind-last-minute-and)

"Mikey!!!"

Michael clutched his chest where the bullet hit him and winced, shutting his eyes closed. Why the fuck do people think a bullet-proof west made one invincible? His rib was definitely going to nag about the impact for a couple of weeks. Balling his fist in the dirty excuse for melting snow that was now his cushion, he rolled around in pain, hissing. His clothes soaked with rapidly cooling blood and dirt splatted all over the road. Next to him, Brad laid on his back, eyes wide in disbelief as he hiccuped with his throat full of blood. Michael stirred himself on the ground to face away from the dying man and to find a good spot to watch Trevor, who ducked behind a metal box of some sort and reloaded his gun. Michael’s position wasn't exactly comfortable, but he was supposed to be dying, so who the fuck cared. After the job had been done, the funeral personnel would collect the bodies as usual and would conduct one miraculous resurrection in between embalming and rushing to ashes. After the job had been done.

The plan could not be more straightforward. He saw a crystal clear picture of Dave behind the closed lids of his eyes, chewing on some rubbery fries just after midnight, squeezed into a dirty turquoise box of a local fast food joint. His eyes, emotionless, following dramatically gesturing hands. A malicious gleam of the wedding ring that felt heavy and cold - a silent reminder of guilt for the bearer. Michael's whole body, lit by pale white tube light, fighting to control the tremor upon words he had said. The sand in his throat, suffocating him, preventing him from saying goodbye when they left the batted place and vanished into the darkness. The choice was made. There was no turning back. It was just him and hostile darkness in the wake of his steps. No turning back.

“I ain’t gonna leave you, Mikey!”

“I’m fucking done, Michael!” he could hear the voice once again in his head with yet another nagging flashback. He could see her pacing trough their trailer, heavy steps echoing from the haphazard yellowish wallpapers. His hand instinctively darted to his neck, to the exact same spot where Trevor left a bright red hickey. Amanda lost her shit over it as always.  
“What does this all mean? You come home and barely touch me anymore, but once you go for one of those so-called jobs, you are suddenly able to fuck whatever lands in your bed!” It wasn’t in bed only and it wasn’t whatever. Michael shivered slightly as he reminisced about slender legs intertwined with his, light touches of lips on his skin accompanied by a rough tickle of a thick moustache. “Amanda, baby, I’m sorry” he tried his best to sound calm, apologetic even, but all the anxiety got a solid grip of him rendering him a pathetic mess. He knew the last straw has been drawn and it was time to face the consequences. “I want you I promise - it’s just… What if we just put this all behind and start afresh?” Amanda turned, her eyes cold and unforgiving, lips pursued. She was listening though. He had a chance. “Do you remember the friend I told you about? He could move us to Los Santos, no questions asked, we could live as a normal family. That’s what you want, right? A normal life.” A moment of silence left Michael unusually nervous, dreading the answer his wife would give him. “What about Trevor?” His name on her lips sounded more like an insult that drove Michael crazy when it should not have. On the other hand, she had a right to hate him - he was like the small devil sitting on his shoulder, tempting him. Sometimes, they committed the sin together, swirling on the backseat of his car or sated their lust hastily in the back alley behind a bar. Sometimes, Trevor bought them a girl they shared, floating higher than the empire state. Sometimes, they only did drugs and held hands through those trips, sharing silence for hours. Somehow, he always knew what the dark side of Michael wanted and he was always ready to make use of the knowledge.  
“He won’t know where we are, won’t bother us anymore.” Amanda’s hips swayed under her tight jeans as she turned to face him fully, clearly calculating the odds of him speaking truth for once. “Will you find a proper job? No funny business with your shady friends?”. He nodded and watched her approaching him cautiously. “Will you give up drugs and one night stands?” She was beautiful as she moved, with silky smooth dark hair let loose, framing her pale face, crashing down on her breasts covered by a dark blue sweater. Michael let out a choked sound of approval and gulped when a pair of carefully manicured hands landed on his chest. “Prove it” she whispered to his mouth as she tucked him down to an emotionless kiss. Her lips were cold and her hands barely moved when she pushed closer, forcing him to silently persuade her, justify his beautiful lies. She might have been an angel with his best interest in heart, but all he wished for was to be kissed by the devil instead.

Michael shook his head and blinked away a tear that appeared in the corner of his eye. The sharp movement put him back in the melting reality, legs numb from laying on the freezing ground. Was he doing this all for a marriage that felt the same as his supposed dying place? He could still remember the first time Trevor kissed him, wild and hungry, yet the first time he kissed his wife was hazy and barely there when he tried to remember it. He could easily recall the thrill when Trevor moaned his name in pleasure for the first time, a sharp contrast to the mundane emptiness of sex with Amanda. Yet, it was normal. It was all he ever wanted, right? A wife, a couple of kids, a picket fence. The great American normal. Whatever was between him and his best friend wasn’t normal by any means. So why the fuck has he always felt homesick when he wasn’t around? Why did everything feel so right with him?

“Aaaaargh!”

Trevor’s sharp howl cut the cord of his thoughts. Michael watched him stumble backwards, the gun falling from his hand, and the world went crumbling down on him. Someone was screaming Trevor’s name, and it occurred to him it must have been him cause his throat hurt suddenly. All the memories flashed before his eyes in a quick smudged run - the first time he saw Trevor, slender frame propped against a plane, the first time their hands brushed together sending sparkles down his spine, the first time they cuddled together, fighting off cold under an old blanket, the first time he tasted his lips, finding a hint of mint on cheap tobacco, the first time they made love and cried in each other’s arms afterwards from the sheer power of the experience and suddenly, something in the back of his mind clicked.

He was in love with Trevor.

And it sounded so easy and logical. He was in love with a dying friend. The friend he killed in a vain attempt to mould himself into someone he should be, never paying attention to the fact he already was who he was meant to be. His body was shaking with the wave of guilt coming back and forth in roaring tide. In front of him, Trevor rolled in pain, face screwed. Michael’s mind quickly provided him with the image he dreaded - pale face, glass-like eyes, lips split in desperate need of just one more breath, long locks of black hair around rigid head in a blood-soaked halo. Was this what he wanted all along? No, no, it was not late yet, he told himself. Every atom of his body screamed to get up and protect him, get him away from there. For a split second, he caught a glimpse of amber eyes, piercing his own with palpable fear and billions of swirling questions, coming down on him like an avalanche.  
It was not late yet. There was still time. Shaking, ignoring the bitching rib, he dragged his body through the snow, desperate get to the only person that mattered.

Trevor’s head jerked frantically upon the touch on his knee, his eyes widening in shock. “Mikey, what are you ---” but his lips were stripped of their ability to speak when they crashed with Michael’s. He wanted to convey everything the only way he could without words and he knew Trevor would understand. He wanted him to know, to feel how fucking scared he was, how sorry he was for what happened, wanted to beg him not to leave him now that he knew. He wanted him and nothing else, hoping it wasn’t too late for it when something wet brushed his thumb, the one that gently caressed Trevor’s cheek. Michael broke the kiss and eyed the drop stuck to his finger, completely puzzled when a silent sob made him refocus on the face in the background. Trevor sat there, his back dressed in a dirty green jacket propped against flaking paint of the unnamed barn, one hand on his crimson weeping shoulder, cheeks wet with a flow of tears. “Is this the last time?” a shaky, high-pitched voice asked, breaking the silence. “Are you leaving me, Mikey?”  
“No.” No, no, no, no tantrums now, for fuck’s sake “Trevor, I am not leaving”  
“But you were shot! You are going to die!”  
“T, baby, listen to me” Michael took a deep breath as he cupped Trevor’s face. His reason returned slowly, but surely, to fight against his wish to simply give up and cry too.  
“We are going to get away from here, ok?”  
Trevor’s eyelashes bated away the rest of the moisture and his eyes questioned him silently. If he listened closely, he might hear the gears in Trevor’s head kick start and turn. It was not the best time or place for revelations, but hey, was it ever?  
“Trust me, ok?” a gentle nod was the answer. Good. Breathe in, breathe out.  
“I was not shot,”  
“But-”  
“Trevor, focus!” Michael cleared his throat. “I was not shot because that… it... It was a set-up”  
Trevor’s eyes widened and in a split second, they flared with rage again. Oh god, so there go his plans for a resurrection. He might be lucky to live till the ambulance arrives. At least the anger was back which meant Trevor could move and run if he needed to, and it was definitely easier to get him to do things when winded up than when he was a pile of messed up emotional mush.  
“I fucking knew it…” Trevor growled.  
“Look, T, let’s talk about it later, ok?” Michael briefly looked behind his shoulder. Dave was exchanging strange looks with a couple of agents who rushed towards the scene. “We need to get the fuck away from here. Now!”  
“No.” Michael froze in place.  
“What?”  
“You wanted them to kill me and now you have the nerve to ask me to trust you?”  
The two agents paced towards them. Shit.  
“I’ve never wanted to kill you, let’s just go and talk about it later, ok?” Michael tugged on Trevor’s sleeve nervously, eyes darting between Dave and two agents with drawn guns. He was seriously stupid thinking this would work. “T, they are almost here!” No, no no no...  
“Why do you care?”  
“Because I fucking love you, you piece of shit!”  
Trevor’s mouth gaped for a second before he shot up and took Michael’s hand, cutting the closest corner.  
In a moment, Michael found himself ducking behind the barn, running as fast as he could, a dirty green jacket in front of him. The chopper was right behind the tracks and if they were lucky, they would get there before those agents caught up with them. His mind was pleasantly blank for a moment, a thing he was grateful for after the flashback terror when Trevor’s shoulder collided with the bullet. It was like a bright white place in the middle of everything, with his heartbeat echoing in the comforting emptiness. It was void of any accusations, any nagging voices, any guilt and self-loathing. For the first time in his miserable life, he felt he did something right. With a genuine sigh of relief, he climbed into the passenger seat of a helicopter which was sitting behind a convenient bush not too far away from the barn. Somewhere behind them, footsteps and shouts echoed, closing in. Trevor’s eyes still dripped anger when he spared him a look, but somehow, it was not scary anymore. It was normal. So fucking normal Michael broke to a burst of laughter. He was sitting in a rapidly accelerating chopper with a serial killer, bullets flying and grazing all around them and it was so damn normal and right all the Vinewood movies could go fuck themselves with all their forced standards.  
Closing his hand over Trevor’s, he received a fond, slowly blooming smile in return. He saw the anger diminished in the amber eyes and gave place to something very gentle and precious, something Trevor didn’t give away easily. Michael smiled back, relieved and let himself collapse into the comfortable seat. Yeah, this was where he was meant to be. Next to him. Always on the run. Always together.

**Author's Note:**

> This work was a momentary impulse I enjoyed quite a lot - I owe my thanks to [horny-for-evil](https://horny-for-evil.tumblr.com/) for a perfect prompt :)
> 
> Thank you for sharing my new-found passion for writing with me :) you are all a great encouragement!  
> As a token of appreciation, [here's a closing credit song](https://youtu.be/TRqiFPpw2fY) (a.k.a. the song I put on repeat writing this)  
> 


End file.
